Shayla
Rebecca stopped just short of us, and I could see the tension in her shoulders—the way she was forcing herself to breathe evenly. For once, she wasn't posturing or performing. She looked like someone walking into an uncertain future hoping to be accepted.
"Shayla. Chris," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "Congratulations… really. It was a beautiful ceremony."
Chris and I exchanged a quick, uncertain glance before I offered a polite smile. "Thank you, Rebecca."
She exhaled, looking away for a moment as if gathering courage. "I wasn't sure I should even come here. When Lawrence invited me, I almost declined—I didn't want to cause a scene, or make you uncomfortable."
"Too late," Chris muttered under his breath, making me subtly elbow him. He cleared his throat, amending quickly, "I mean…we're glad you came. Really."
